Fly away with me
by brkayace
Summary: Peter has never felt more alone. A void in his heart haunts his dreams and causes great pain day after day. He must return to Wendy and keep her by his side if he was to go on. But when he does go to her, he finds she has grown four years;what he didn't expect was that he had grown too. He is old enough to understand he is in deep, passionate love with her. M for later chapters
1. Return

Peter shot straight up and hit his head against the branch that was suspended above his resting place with a loud thump. He winced and held the now throbbing area, tears running down his cheeks. But the pain from the smack was short lived, though his tears continued to flow freely, glistening in the candlelight. He glances around the quiet fortress he calls home, the emptiness sinking in. It may have been days since he had said goodbye to the lost boys…and Wendy. It may have been weeks as well, and he dreaded the thought…years…

His tears still flowed, and the freshness of the dream he'd just woken from still haunted him. The more he let the horrid memory tamper with his thoughts the harder his cries became, and he turned into the blankets, sobs shaking his entire body. Never had he been so torn apart, and by such feelings he did not understand. What if it rang truth? Still, despite the way it hurt him so, he thought over the events of his dream once more…

_Peter could not take it any longer. He missed Wendy so that he could care less about the confusion it brought to him to consider returning to her. He would do it. Tonight; he would return to England and rescue his Wendy from her world, take her to Neverland where she'll never leave his side. He thought not about her willingness; he must convince her. _

_There is no other way he can live in the world he does if she is not there with him. He cannot continue to cry himself to sleep. With no lost boys there with him he has no more adventures. No Hook to annoy, no Hook to battle, no Hook to taunt. No one to play with, and Tinkerbell… Well if not for her, Peter would have left for England sooner. She was the only think keeping his head level. _

_He stands from his throne made out of leaves and twigs, and goes straight for the _drip drop _sound he knew was the awfulness called 'medicine'. He would take it. And this time, it won't be poisoned. He would do anything to bring himself closer to her in some way, to his beloved lost friends._

"_Tinkerbell," he calls when he is finished. She emerges from her spot not too long after, stretching and yawning from her night's sleep. Peter had gotten no sleep, not in some time. He could not, for the void in his heart was too large. _

_She answers him in an annoyed tone, wondering why he had woken her before the sun had risen completely. _

"_We're returning to England," he announces, reaching for his dagger. No matter the situation, no matter the destination, he must always have it on him. _

_She objects; Peter was well prepared for this, and turns towards the exit. _

"_If you don't come with me and give her pixie dust I won't return. I will be forced to stay in England forever," he retorts to her loud protests, smirking as she falls silent. He feels accomplished he was able to silence Tink like this, but it does not last long. She feels he would never sacrifice the island, and her, for Wendy. _

"_You see the way I am, Tink, if I do not return to her soon I may never be happy again. I don't know much of feelings Tink, but I know that the ones I do have are terrible. I don't know if I can be a boy any longer," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a whisper as he finishes off his admittance. Tink says no more, and to Peters surprise, willingly will return to England with him. _

_It takes virtually no time to fly. They're up in the air in an instant, and in an instant more her bedroom window is in his view. It is open. Hook has been wrong. The window was not barred! It may not be too late! An odd feeling stirs around in his stomach, like a storm of butterflies were batting their wings against his insides, trying to break free from their cage. It was warm and frothy, and it made Peter giggle with anticipation at what he might find. _

_Landing on the windowsill, he hesitates as the reality of where he was sinks in. "Wendy?" he says curiously, his heart warming at the thought of her being asleep, right over there in her bed. He strides across the room. Reaching her bed, he places his hands on the posts and says, "Wendy I have come for you." He waits eagerly for her reply, hoping she was not too startled at his return. Or too upset that he wished to interfere with her plans for growing up. _

"_Hello Peter," a voice sounds behind him. He turns around and sighs, recognizing the soft wave of her hair that her silhouette shows in the firelight. _

"_Oh, there you are," he says with relief, stepping towards her. He turns back to the bed; curious as to whom he had seen sleeping there. "Is it John?" he questions, gesturing to the source of his curiosity._

"_No, John is not here now," she replies, her voice this time seemingly different. But Peter brushes it off, turning towards the bed again; this time sure he knows who it must be. _

"_Then it is Michael," he proclaims. _

"_Michael has gone too," she says to him. Then he is struck with realization, turning back once more to make sure. _

"_Is it…a new one?" he questions, wondering if perhaps maybe she had a new brother or sister. _

"_Yes," she replies, and he can hear the smile in her voice. He looks at the sleeping child once more, grinning widely at the new life he has encountered. He has been away from people from so long; any new being he comes across is a wonder. It is a joy. "I cannot come with you Peter. I have forgotten how to fly." Wendy sounds sad now, like she too has realized that they have been apart far too long. _

_He shrugs coolly, "I'll soon teach you again," he announces excitedly. But Peter has not prepared himself for Wendy to stand from the floor. _

_She rises, and continues to rise, until she is undeniably a child no more. "It is more than that," she tells him. It sweeps over him like a thick heavy wave, drowning him in sorrow and for a moment he cannot breathe. He can only watch in shock and sadness as she begins to lighten the room, so that he may see her face. _

"_No, don't turn up the lights," he pleads, voice nearly gone. But it is too late, and the room is lit. She turns, and he is no longer looking at Wendy. He is looking at a woman. A grown woman. His heart sinks, and he feels as though his entire existence had been a joke. He was broken._

"_Oh Wendy, you shouldn't have," he nearly whimpers, slowly backing away from his only hope to be happy again. _

"_I couldn't help it Peter. I'm a married woman now," she tells him, sadness in her voice. Married…husband…Hook had been right…he had been right all along. This man, husband, was in _his _place. _

"_No," he protests, unable to believe it. "You're not." But he is on the verge of tears. She steps forward. _

"_The little girl in the bed is my daughter." Peter looks at the child, reality still refusing to sink it. How could it be? How had he stayed in Neverland so many years?_

"_No, she is not." He refuses to believe any of it, starting to become angry. He removes his dagger from the sheath and steps toward the child to investigate her appearance. She has long caramel hair that falls in silky waves around the pillow, her soft pale cheeks have a faint pink tint, and her plump pink lips prove, she is indeed, her mother's daughter. _

_Tears prick at his eyes and he tries to blink them away. He takes a deep, jagged breath, looking up at Wendy. She cannot assure him that things will be okay, and he slowly sinks to the ground, wrapping his arms around his knees and letting the tears flow free. _

Peter sobbed and sobbed. He was sure he had been there lying in his bed for hours, and yet the tears still continued to flow. Mustn't he run out of tears sooner or later? He couldn't tell. It was midday before Tink finally sat upon his shaking arm, tapping her feet across his skin and urging him to join her in some sort of activity, anything but be hurt like this all day. It hurt her to so see him in this condition.

"Don't you see, Tink?" he sniffles, "I miss her so terribly! I must return to her," but he pauses, "what if I am too late…?" this brings him a new set of tears, as if it was possible. Tink pulls on his hair, forcing him to wipe his tears and stand, hiccupping and sniffling all the way to the door.

She says they must go.

"Tink…she may be grown up now… I can't stand to know I lost my chance." He wipes away the new tears, afraid to cry any longer. He promises himself he will never cry over Wendy again. It is what cowards do, and he is no coward. Still, Tink urges their leave. She is much easier to convince than in his dream. He was thankful for that, and he was thankful for her.

"What if, Tinkerbell," he stops as they make their way to middle ground, outside the fort. "What if Wendy grew up?" To this, Tinker bell has no answer.

Ooo_ooO

This time, the fly to England was much, much longer. Peter felt those butterflies in his stomach, the same ones he'd felt in his dream, but they were frightening. He was no longer excited at what he might find when he returns to her nursery window, but terrified. Never before in his hundreds of years living, has he been so afraid. But he is still no coward, and this is what pushes him to land on the windowsill.

He takes in the sight of the room, and Tinkerbell zooms about, golden trails of dust following her and lighting up certain areas. There were still three beds, and there was no woman sitting by the fire. The dog slept soundly in the corner, bonnet, snore and all. Peter's heart jumped, and for a moment he thought it might've stopped.

But this is when he noticed there were not just three beds, but several. There were many. He had not remembered Wendy having this many brothers, but as soon as he realized they were boys he remembered his friends. The lost boys; these were the lost boys.

Tink pounces on one of their heads, waking him with a groan. As the boy sits up to swat away the fairy, he knows that this boy is Michael. But Michael is not much of the young boy he was…he is much older. At least two, maybe three years. He could be almost thirteen. Peter's heart sank again as he realized he had missed a few years of their lives, but still…could those years be so different…? Would Wendy be too grown to return to the life they knew?

"Bloody hell…," Michael mumbles, the tone of a man hinting faintly in the back of his throat. It is not as deep as Peter had expected, and this relieves him.

He flies to the foot of Michael's bed and places his hands proudly on his hips. "Tell me, where is Wendy?" he asks, leaning towards the boy in hopes that Wendy was not gone. Had not yet found a husband.

"Peter Pan," he says, shocked. "My god, it's you!" he sits up and rubs his eyes, hair no longer hanging in his face. The striking orange hair had been cut short. He was nearly grown into a young man, nearly. But not quite. There were still many qualities of boy in his features. Peter waits for an answer.

"She was moved from the nursery four years ago, after we returned," he stutters in disbelief. Peter himself was still in awe at where he was, so he tried to play it cool like Wendy and the boys he knew had not grown four years. It was still far better a situation than them growing up completely.

"To where was she moved?" Peter urges, reminding himself to visit the boys after he is reunited with her.

"The room down the hall, at the very end." Michael can barely get all the words out before Peter is flying out the room, rounding the corner and down the hall. He stops short and Tinkerbell almost runs into him.

"Stay here," he instructs firmly, "I won't have your jealousy spoil this moment," he says, opening the door and slipping into the room, closing it before she can follow or protest.

Peter turns towards Wendy's bed and brings himself closer curiously. He hovers above her, taking in her appearance with admiring eyes. She is simply beautiful. Her hair was much longer, and much silkier. It cascaded around her face same as the moment he first saw her so many years ago. Her lips were still as beautiful and plump as when he'd first traced them with this fingertips. He must do it again, just because the urge in his heart was too heavy to resist.

She woke at the touch, and her eyes shot open, startled blue orbs looking the same as before. She gasps, and Peter nearly flies back against the wall but doesn't. It takes every ounce of his strength to stay put. He must've move, for if he does he may never have the strength to move again. He wasn't too late. He could feel it, Wendy would be his.

"Peter," she whispers, astonished. He moves back slightly as she begins to sit up. She fumbles around with the sheets, getting her hands free to turn the lights up in the room, so that he could see her and she could see him.

"I have come for you," he announces proudly, or he intended to, but all that comes out is a choked whisper as he loses his breath and his ability to speak, and without further hesitation she wraps her arms around his neck. They fall into each other's warm embrace, and the tighter he holds her, the harder he feels her shoulders shake.

"Oh Peter," she cries, tangling her fingers in his long golden hair and pulling back to look at him with shining blue eyes. He grins with happiness. This Wendy was not too old for him. In fact, she seemed more perfect than ever.

He doesn't know what it is that causes him to do this, but the force generated in his body pushes him forward, and she tightens her arms around his neck, both of them pressing their lips together for the first, second time.

A warm feeling envelopes them, and he is no longer afraid of those feelings he and Wendy had talked about. In the honest truth, he had lied to her when he told her that the very sound of the word love had offended him. It intrigued him, and though he did not know what it was, he knew it was something powerful. Something just as powerful as this thimble they were sharing, and four years ago that kind of power shook him to his very core. He could not comprehend it. But somehow, after losing her, he had come to welcome it. He craved it.

"Wendy," he whispers as they pulled apart for air. She pressed her lips to his again greedily, not having the separation. He has never felt so happy. This was the greatest joy of his life; Hook had been wrong. Nobody had replaced him, and nobody ever would.

When they finally separated for good, and their lips stopped moving with each other, his lips felt numb. They felt weird, and wet. It was an odd sensation and yet he found himself to like it very much.

"My, Peter, look at you," Wendy says with a laugh, wiping away the last of her tears and hugging him tightly once more.

"Look at _you," _he answers, gesturing to her body. "You've grown," he adds sadly. She looks down for a moment before looking back up at him.

"Well, so have you."


	2. Odd

**Okay, so I was never going to make this fanfiction. But hey, I have so many fanfictions already…and I love Peter Pan. So much. I have such a bad obsession with it, I couldn't **_**not **_**write about it. Obviously it will get rated M later on, but I don't want that to be everything. Not like in my Hunger Games fanfiction (and it's not everything in that story either but Katniss and Peeta do do it a lot)**

**This fanfiction is gunna be hopefully, a good one. I don't know where I'm going with it, so bear with me. **

**Also, here is Peters dream from the previous chapter:**

** watch?v=CtMAe1zSsbQ **

**It was a deleted scene. I just found it, and you've probably already seen it, but if not go ahead and click it and watch my words come to life..yay…**

**Read on.**

Peter didn't really think through his plan. Did he really expect that Wendy would leave her life behind so simply? No, it was not that simple. Wendy was nearly seventeen, in a few short weeks her life would be changed forever as she was sent to her final year of schooling. In Spain.

This was a very prestigious boarding school her parents had picked out for her, and if Peter had not come through the nursery window that night Wendy would have no confliction on leaving. But, her plans were scattered all over the floor now, as Peter begs her return to Neverland. He has no idea the predicament he was putting her through.

"You can't possibly ask me to throw my life away," Wendy stutters, tracing the planes and lines of his hand. They sat on the floor next to the fire, a lovely young woman wearing a white night gown with a porcelain face, and a masculine young man with wild golden hair and an attire of leaves and vines. He spoke of the earth, and she spoke of society.

"I would never dare suggest you do such a thing," Peter retorts, offended at her statement. "I simply ask you join me. Stay by my side, or I shall never be happy again."

"You don't know what kind of situation that puts me in!" Wendy exclaims. Peter looks at her, confused, innocent eyes gazing at her in curiosity and adoration.

Wendy continues, "I want more than anything for you to be happy, but I cannot give up my future here, in _this _world, only for that. I have a life being made for me, if I leave my family…they will not think highly of me," she says, voice growing softer. Oh, but Peter has matured enough to know what he wants, and to know exactly how to prove his decision to bring her back was the right one.

"You want for me to be happy more than you want to keep your ladylike status in this family," Peter answers her softly. "You said anything." He gives her that cocky smirk she has come to dream about many times over the years. Oh how she missed that smirk. It would keep him ageless for hundreds of years despite how he grew.

Yes, Peter had grown.

"Why do you suppose you've aged, you haven't for years prior. Why now?" Wendy questions, not most anticipating his answer but his thoughts. She did not expect him to understand why or how he had grown.

"I think the island is trying to tell me something," Peter murmurs, looking into the fire. Wendy is surprised at his answer, surely he was more intelligent than she had imagined. She feels guilty in realizing this; because she knows Peter is intelligent, but the reason he was in Neverland…has always been a mystery. It wasn't questioned, because it shatters the illusion of perfection. There is no magic where there is an explanation.

"What do you mean?" she questions, glad to be off the subject of her leaving England. He takes in a deep breath and thinks for a moment.

"I don't know much about why I'm there," he starts, "But I know more than I thought I did. Which I don't really understand…I really only started realizing things after you left…"

Wendy thinks about what he says, starting to put some pieces together, but she keeps her lips sealed until he is finished explaining.

"I know that the island needs me. I know that if I'm not there, it goes into a cold, freezing winter. And when I'm gone, the time is different. I've only been away from the island a few hours, but there it has probably been around a week. Sometimes, though, I'll return after a few days and it will have only been a few hours there. The time ranges change, and it confuses me," he stops, thinking more.

"You've stayed in this world for days at a time?" Wendy asks, finally giving up the resistance. She wanted to be closer to him. She missed him so, it was unfair that he stays so far away and not have her in his arms every moment they were together. She scoots closer to him and leans her head into his shoulder, and surprisingly he just sighs and wraps his arms around her, holding tightly.

"I've missed you, I'm sorry I stayed away so long. I wanted to come sooner, but I had no way of knowing how long I had really been gone because of the time changing. It only felt like weeks to me." He looks away from her, into the fire once more. She can see Peter doing this every night. Staring blankly into a fire, daydreaming. He had not continued to have his adventures after she left. That was the one thing keeping her happy all these years, knowing he must be having so much fun. But he wasn't. What was she supposed to make of this?

"I think I know why you've grown," Wendy whispers after a few moments of silence. He looks down at her expectantly. She continues, "You didn't grow in Neverland because you wanted only to be a boy. But after I'd gone you thought maybe you wanted something more. But being so young, you couldn't understand what it was. Once you started to grow, things became clearer," Wendy says, only thinking out loud. Her statements had no validation, but one answer was better than none. What Peter says next makes her chuckle a bit. He was not serious; despite any pain he's been caused.

"I suppose this suits me. I look far better than as a child," he grins.

"Oh, the attractiveness of you," Wendy giggles. He looks down at her and smiles widely.

"I know that won't be enough to convince you," he kisses her lips softly, "but there must be something else I can do," he urges, kissing her once more. This feeling is so strange; he has never felt these feelings towards another before. He has never known what it felt like to _want._

Wendy pulls away and takes a breath, thinking everything over.

"What will happen the longer you're away?" Wendy asks, considering every option. Even Peter staying here, with her.

"I don't know…" he whispers softly. "I have never left permanently."

"You say the island needs you?" Wendy remembers.

"It does. Without me it is cold, barren. The plants will not grow, the sun will not shine. Its creatures can survive, but not forever." The idea of this terrifies Wendy. She thinks of all the precious lives surviving on that island. Already, they could have been in the freezing cold for a week simply so Peter could visit with Wendy for a night.

"Are you sure they're in the middle of winter right now?" she asks. He shrugs.

"On the nights that I come to hear stories I only stay for an hour or so. Winter has not started yet by the time I return. It's a game of chance, and changing."

"Where is Tinkerbell?" Wendy asks. To this Peter laughs.

"Outside the door, probably peeking through the keyhole. I have told her to stay out of the room, on account of her jealousy," he grins, rubbing her shoulder. Wendy laughs slightly, remembering and missing the little fairy, so full of life.

"She has much character," she comments. "You ought to keep her."

"I never considered otherwise."

After this Wendy and Peter fall silent, both of them thinking of alternative lifestyles. They sit in the silence for several moments, just relishing in the feel of being in each other's company once more. In each other's arms.

"Come away with me," Peter whispers in her ear, shattering the silence. She closes her eyes and sighs in frustration, confusion and grief swelling up inside of her. Peter doesn't have it in him to enchant her with mermaids like he once did; he has nothing to promise her but a life of eternal youth. A life with him. He just hopes with all of his being that it is enough to convince her.

Ooo_ooO

Sunlight pours through the open window, and the loud sound of banging irritates Wendy, waking her. Her brothers have woken, and now so must she. They are neither courteous nor quiet in the mornings.

Peter is still fast asleep beside her, broad shoulders lifting and falling. She scratches at her skin, the leaves of his attire irritating and itching her. They were pressed tightly together, her head tucked into his neck. He had his arms wrapped around her protectively. It seemed as though he was never going to release her, keep her save in his arms where nothing in the world could harm her. This is what Peter wanted, to keep her forever.

He sure has grown. He looks as though he could past for one of her own age. He was so much older, thicker. She knows that she was very much attracted to him four years ago, but now as they lie in this bed together she can't get rid of those pesky little hormones that ravaged her heart. She has never craved Peters love more than this very moment.

But the very sound of the word love offended him. And that hurt her.

She shook him, and he jolted awake, sitting up quickly, his leaves leaving red lines against her delicate cream skin as they scratched her.

"I wasn't sleeping!" he mumbles incoherently. He rubs his eyes and looks down at the woman beside him, grinning tiredly at her appearance.

"Yes, you were sleeping," she corrects, making an attempt to tame his wild curls. But it could not be done, and she gave up, satisfied with his appearance. He simply continues to smile at her. She grins back and they take in the morning.

But after a moment Peters grin disappears, and he turns away from her awkwardly, facing the other direction with his feet hanging off the edge of the bed. Wendy moves forward, wrapping her arms around him.

"What's the matter?" she asks softly, rubbing his shoulder.

"Uhh," he looks down awkwardly, standing and flying to the window at a faster speed than she could've imagined.

"Peter!" she gasps. "Don't go! I'm not ready for you to go yet," Wendy runs to him, gripping his arm and pulling him away from the window as if he were to throw himself to his death life a normal human being would if they were standing on a windowsill. He turns his back to her, and the look on his face seemed almost embarrassed.

"I won't leave," he says. "I wasn't going to leave, don't worry," he assures.

"Then where were you going?" she questions dubiously, heart pounding from such excitement so early in the morning.

"I just need a moment," he says quietly, not turning towards her still. Wendy is silent, and Peter feels bad for scaring her like he just had. He decides to be merciful, despite how embarrassing it is to admit what he is about to admit.

"This weird thing happens with me every morning," Peter explains, turning towards her. She looks at him with a questioning expression. This is when he notices he is at least a full six inches taller than her. He sighs, cheeks turning pink with a hot rush of blood. He points to his crotch. "It grows."

Wendy looks down curiously, and when she looks back up at him her reaction is not at all what he expected it to be. She was laughing. His cheeks grow hotter.

"It's not funny!" he defends.

"No! You're right it's not funny, it's just surprising how much you were never taught," she says, her giggles dying down. He just waits for her to continue. "It's normal for it to grow. Especially in the morning. It happens to every man."

"Man…" Peter echoes with sadness in his voice. He looks down at the floor and Wendy notices that his morning wood as gone.

"Boys too. It happens to males, I should say," she corrects herself, hoping to help him cope with newly ascertaining his true size. He nods.

"It happened to you before I met you right?" Wendy asks.

Peter nods. "Yes, but it happens more now. During the day, during the night, in the morning…" he trails off, obviously this was the most vulnerable he's ever been. Wendy hugs him tightly, and he runs his fingers through her long honey hair.

"Don't you worry a bit, Peter. Everything happening is normal," she assures. He sighs, obviously relieved.

"Good," he says to her.

"Don't be embarrassed, either," she adds, pulling back to look at him. She thinks of another thing, questioning on whether or not she should say it out loud. She decides not to but Peter sees the thoughts flickering across her features.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Oh, it's nothing," she smiles, releasing her grip on him and starting to straighten out the sheets on the bed. She thinks about how she had been with Peter last night. To lie with a boy, or man…it was something she had never considered possible. She was a lady of class, and was not to lie with a man until her wedding night. But, then again all she and Peter did was sleep.

"Tell me," he demands, taking her hands captive and holding them to his heart. "I have not kept anything from you. I was honest. You must be too," he says firmly. She sighs, melting under his words and his face. His will to take charge.

"You know…when it grows…that you can touch it…right?" she says. She has never spoken of things of this sort before. Only has she touched her own self a few times, and knows what it is her body can do. But she doesn't find it in her interest to do it often, it brings her too close to the brink of insanity, and she misses Peter too much when she does. It hurts her heart to know he cannot be there with her. But now, I guess that isn't a problem.

"Touch it?" he retorts, expression dubious. "Was I not able to touch it before?"

"That's not what I mean…" Wendy trails off, not sure how she could explain this. "Touch it after it has grown and you'll feel pleasure. The best pleasure ever known to mankind," she says, "and womankind," she adds with a blush. He looks down curiously. It's obvious he didn't know this.

"Odd," he shrugs. To this Wendy can't help but laugh.


	3. Clothes

The next day passed very slowly. Wendy dressed for the day while Peter waited outside the door, and Tinkerbell glared at him disapprovingly. But he knew she was still happy to be here, because now Peter would finally be happy. Even if just for a little while.

"Thank you for coming with me Tink," he tells her.

After a reunion with the boys, the question of parents came up. Were they to meet him? How, as he started to think things through, could he take Wendy away forever without leaving an explanation to them? Things seemed so much simpler four years ago, so much easier and carefree. No, he didn't have that luxury anymore. He had to do this the mature way if it was going to happen. Somehow let her parents know that she is in good hands, even if they're powerless to stop her retreat. That is, if she were to agree to go…

Wendy exits her room and nearly runs into Peter in the hallway, who was standing very close to her door.

"Oh!" she gasps, startled.

"I'm sorry for what I said last night," Peter says quietly but rushed. "I know it's hard to even consider leaving your home. I just hope you know how much I want you to be with me, and how much it would mean if you lived in Neverland," he says. It was not often Peter displayed this kind of emotion, but the past few years have been a whirlwind of feelings he's never felt before. It was so mind boggling. He wasn't sure how to put what he felt into words.

Wendy didn't answer; she simply gazed at him and lifted her hand slowly to his face, tracing his features before placing her palm on his cheek. She studies him for a moment and Peter stands there awkwardly, not used to any attention, especially from a female that wasn't four inches high.

"You're beautiful, do you know that Peter?" she says softly. He looks down, unsure how to react. He's never been given this news before.

"I didn't know," he whispers, looking back up at her, unable to avoid her eyes.

"Well," she sighs, wrapping both her arms around his neck, "now you do."

"I'm not sure how to ask you to touch your lips to mine…" he stutters, feeling the urge to hold her in his arms that way again, but not quite sure how to initiate it.

"You want to kiss me," Wendy blushes.

"You called it a thimble, Wendy," he retorts, faces still only inches apart. It was like little flares of energy were connecting them, strands of it only thickening the tension.

"I do believe I have told you a lie then," she answers guiltily, breath faltering from the closeness of him. "A thimble is what I've called a kiss, and a kiss is what I've called a thimble." Peter thinks about this for a moment before answering.

"Then I want to kiss you," he says, placing his hands on her neck and leaning in before she can answer. They fall into each other's embrace and for a moment there is no more worry. Neither of them have been his happy in ages.

He wanted desperately to push her back into the room, close the door, and follow whatever it is he feels that has been bottled up inside for so long. But the thought of doing that scared him, because he knows something could happen. But what? There has always been that unspoken adult thing that Peter knew sprouted from kissing, but he has never really fully come to understand it. All he knew was that it was the most powerful thing you could do. It was something only grownups were supposed to do, because they kept it a secret from children.

"Bloody hell," Michael mumbles disapprovingly. Peter disregards him and continues kissing his lovely so passionately; unable to comprehend why Michael would intrude on such a precious moment.

"Peter," Wendy scolds, nudging him away for her space. "Manners," she says quietly. She turns to Michael and tries to play calmly.

"Breakfast is ready," he says before turning and disappearing down the hall.

"Rude," Peter scuffs the floor with his foot, mumbling.

"Yes, you were," she responds. Peter looks up, hurt at her accusation.

"How was I rude? He's the one who interrupted. I know you were enjoying yourself just as much as I was," he defends, straightening out his leaves from last nights sleep. He looks and feels disheveled.

"It was not a smart decision to engage in physical relations in the middle of the hallway," she says to him, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Next time we ought to stay in the room." She takes off down the hallway in a quick stride, turning a corner and going into another room.

Peter follows her, a wide and smug grin on his face. _'Next time'_ he thought.

"Here," she says to him as he enters the dimly lit room.

"What are these?" he questions as she places the fabric in his hands.

"Well I won't have you meeting mother and father in vines and leaves," she says, as if he should know that was unacceptable.

"Right," he mumbles as she passes him into the hallway.

"Get dressed, I'll wait for you out here," she says, gesturing to the room behind him. He gives her a very obviously awkward smile before she closes the door. Peter had not the slightest idea of how to put these clothes on.

/

It took him almost fifteen minutes to get everything on correctly, and even then Wendy had to redo the buttons on his vest once he entered the hallway a little tangled.

"You did fine," she assures. He started to panic a little bit at the thought of meeting her parents, but her soft touches reassured him he'd be okay.

"When I get back to Neverland I'll need to travel around naked for a week just to get the feeling of clothes off of me," he mumbles disapprovingly of the clothing as Wendy fixes him up, straightening out his collar. He notices the slight blush on her cheeks and kisses them.

"You're such a boy, Peter," she chuckles as she swats him away. He laughs back and takes her resistance as a challenge, peppering her face with more and more kisses.

"I won't deny that," he says childishly.

"Come," she finally says, "let's eat."

"I'm starving," he admits.


	4. Improper

Mr. and Mrs. Darling stare at Peter with fascination. Never before in their lives had they seen such a ravenous boy. Except once, four years ago when they adopted the so called "lost boys", who's original home had never been established. Surprisingly, they didn't question it further once they got the same answer twice. Neverland was the only thing they were going to hear.

"Wendy," Mr. Darling starts, not taking his eyes off of Peter who was shamelessly stuffing his face with strawberries, bread, and bacon.

"What is this?" Peter holds up the bacon with a questioning look on his face. He eats it before he gets an answer. He doesn't look more than 16, though he must've been alive at least three hundred years old. Or more…who knows? Wendy has to stop thinking about Peter's age before her brain goes into overload. It was too early to think so hard.

"It's bacon, Peter," Wendy says, embarrassed of his ignorance. Of course Peter wouldn't know what bacon was. She can't help but laugh though; it makes her heart happy to know that Peter is well fed this morning. He needs to be taken care of for once; he's been on his own for the past four years.

"Oh," he responds. He takes another bite, almost finishing his plate. "It's good." She grins again, and it's contagious because her mother and father have started grinning too. They know this boy must've come from the same place as the others, and he has probably never seen a meal like this.

"Wendy," her father repeats, a little less timidly, "did Peter come from the same place as the lost boys?" He incorporates the nickname they had for themselves, and the boys at the table go wild.

"Neverland! He's from Neverland!" They exclaim. Just like that all of their voices are echoing throughout the dining room.

"Calm down!" he retorts. Peter looks up from his food and smiles widely.

"Yeah, I was their leader for as long as I can remember," he says happily. It's the most he's said since he's come down to meet them. His shyness has evaporated once he had food in his mouth. Wendy still noticed the childlike qualities of him. He'd not had a proper upbringing, he still thought with the mind of a rambunctious child despite how his body had grown. Things he hasn't recognized are what make him older.

"Leader?" Her mother questions. Peter nods, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Wendy hands him a cloth to use instead, and he takes it dubiously.

"Yeah," he answers confidently, voice deeper. It's such an odd sound to adjust to; it makes Wendy squirm in her seat. The sound of his voice makes her stomach feel light and tingly. "I was captain of the lost boys since forever. Boys who fall out of their prams and aren't claimed in seven days are sent to the Neverland, and they're _mine," _he says the last word as if it were a serious statement. But the sparkle in his eye shows that to him, it has always just been a game. He never owned the lost boys, he acted as their father, but it was a constant role to play. Never once did he take responsibility for the things they did. He was just as devoted to them as they were to him, in the end.

"I see," Mrs. Darling says, looking down at her lap. "I dare not question it further. I cannot bear to understand the amazing feats of…well…_magic_ it must take to create such a place that you boys have suggested exists."

"That's what I do," he says, suddenly less playful. He shrugs. "The less I know the easier it is to have fun."

"Mother, father," John murmurs from his seat beside Mr. Darling, "You can bet your behinds that I didn't believe it at first too; that is until Peter brought us there. Neverland, tis a real place, but yes I agree not to question it."

The table is silent. The all logical and knowledgeable John as spoken.

"How long shall Peter be staying?" Mr. Darling asks nonchalantly, returning to his breakfast. The ice at the table has been broken, and the family returns to eating and separate chatter amongst the boys.

This is where Wendy draws a blank. She says nothing, just blankly stares down at her food in deep thought. She's hardly touched any of it. Suddenly Peter picks up a strawberry off of her plate and holds it up to her mouth, chewing on his own.

"Eat," he orders, offering it to her. She accepts the strawberry and takes a bite, glad for the encouragement. "You must eat," he says again, "being healthy is being fed."

"That's a good boy," Mr. Darling comments with a wave of his fork and a friendly smile. "Ever since she returned she's not eaten nearly enough."

Peter frowns. Wendy cannot meet his eyes.

*****Later that evening**

"Father says you can stay as long as you like," Wendy murmurs as she makes Peters bed. He's staying in the room he had changed in earlier. He sighs with discomfort.

"I don't want to stay…" he whispers. Wendy looks up from fluffing the pillows.

"You don't have to," she responds, voice barely there. She has never been so clueless than this day, but Peter's statement had hurt.

He takes a step forward and takes her hand. "I meant I don't want to stay in this room. I want to stay wherever you are." She cannot breathe, the sparkle in his eye touches her soul in a way she never thought possible to happen again. She can't respond. He leans down to kiss her.

"It's not proper," she gasps as she turns her head away a second before his lips would have met their goal. He rolls his eyes, turning around to face her as she scurries towards the door, muttering a goodnight.

"Don't leave Wendy," he says, reaching for her arm.

"Please," she stammers, avoiding his eyes.

"I've waited for what seems like a million years to see you again. I think I'm a little bit more confused than you are, at least you _knew_ that you were growing up!" he says, trying to reason with her. She takes a deep breath and nods, leading him to her room in defeat.

He was certainly right. She can't keep feeling sorry for herself; she needs to understand what emotional damage this must've done to Peter. He'd been the same age for as long as he can remember, all the sudden he's much older than he's used to. He needs help understanding all the new things he feels.

"You can sleep with me tonight," she offers. He nods, looking around her room.

"I've slept with you before, this should be no different right?" he asks, unbuttoning his shirt. Wendy gulps and looks away from him, spotting the window. She hurries over and opens it, gazing out over the rooftops. He comes up behind her whispers in her ear. "My Wendy." She shivers.

"You can't do that!" she accuses, suddenly thinking of something. "Tinkerbell wouldn't like you being so close to me!"

"Tinkerbell isn't here," he shrugs, and she notices he's shirtless. That feeling in her stomach comes back again, and though it scares her, it thrills her. She finds herself staring.

"Where is she?" she murmurs, mouth dry, eyes not leaving his beautiful body. He wasn't overly muscular, and he was malnourished. He was the perfect size, perfectly average…but there was something about him that made her nervous.

"She's exploring London," he says, moving closer. "I assume she'll come back when she's ready."

"What if she never does?"

Peter puts his finger under her chin and tilts her head up to look him in the eye.

"Tink would never leave me," he whispers, kissing Wendy's neck softly. "Is this normal?" his voice is muffled in her skin.

"What?" she asks, mustering up her voice while she gives up her battle and tangles her fingers in his hair. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back to give him more access.

"Kissing you in different places," he answers.

"Yes, it's normal." He sighs against her neck, and she shudders. A feeling washes over her, he knees are close to buckling and her body nearly falls limp in his arms. He pulls back to look at her, worried he might have hurt her.

"Is something wrong?"

Her breathing is labored and shallow, and her eyes are hooded. Whatever Peter is doing to her is something she has never felt before. It's as if all the senses in her body are heightened. She wants something she's never wanted before.

"No," she says hurriedly before pressing her lips to his. He lets out a small sound of surprise before stumbling back towards the bed where she was pushing him, surprised at her outburst.

She tugs on the buttons of his pants, and though Peter planned on stripping himself of them anyway he knew this was different. Being naked next to Wendy is different now that he feels the way he does, now that a certain part of his body has been awakened- much to his embarrassment.

She looks down at him, at his manhood. He feels an odd sense of intimidation, an exposure he's never understood before. She cups his cheek, and runs her fingers over his eyelids, which were closed tightly.

"Peter," she whispers, "Are you okay? You don't have to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable," she says, kissing his neck the way he had hers. He lies back against the pillow and grips her back tightly, and her bare leg brushes against his under her nightgown. His head falls back as she kisses his collarbone, his jaw. He moans softly, trembling against her touch.

His eyes flutter open and he sits up suddenly, stuttering a string of unintelligible words.

"I, uh, this- I mean- I can't really, I don't," he's breathing frantically. Wendy sits up and strokes his shoulder, sure she knows that the reason he's so upset is not because he's afraid, but because he doesn't think what they're doing is normal.

"Why are you panicking all of the sudden?" she wonders in a soothing voice.

Panting, he says, "I…I moaned…"

She laughs. "Yes, you did. It was very cute." He snaps towards her suspiciously.

"Cute?"

"Yes."

"Oh…so it's not out of sorts…?"

"No Peter…" she sighs, how was she to explain this? "Everything that happens, everything you feel…it happens for everybody. Any sounds we might make, anywhere we may kiss or touch…it's absolutely perfectly normal, no matter how scary or odd it is. It's just new, that's all." She smiles, satisfied with her answer. He grins too.

"Good, because I don't want to stop."

*****Sometime later**

Peter had never seen a naked woman before now, and not only that but he had never done what it was that grownups do. The secret, the big secret; the one that children weren't to know about.

He had so many questions, because even though Wendy had not said it he knew that was what they were going to do. He just didn't know if asking her those questions was okay, she seems to like having her mouth on his. Not that he wanted to stop kissing her, or stop doing anything that they were doing, but he needed to know.

"What do I do?" he whispers against her lips.

They're both bare, clothes strewn lazily on the floor. Peter was on top of Wendy, her legs spread and his hips fitting between them. Their most misunderstood body parts brushed together, and he felt now how damp she was.

She was so different compared to him, the feel of her was so much softer than he could've imagined. The sight of her breasts did unimaginable to things to him. The sight of her at all, the way she was sprawled out beneath him made his heart beat so rapidly he feared it may stop from exhaustion. Her hair splayed out across the pillow the way it had the night before, and the first night he'd ever seen her.

Her hands cupped his cheeks, touched his neck, and traveled down his back and up again, winding their way into his hair.

"You can do whatever you want," she answers. He sighs, that wasn't the answer he was looking for.

"I know what I want to do…I just…I'm not sure I know how," he explains, his breathing labored. "I want to love you as much as I can, Wendy," he says in a softer voice. She moans softly against his skin, and the hair on the back of his neck stands up on end.

"You want to make love…?" she questions. That's it, that's the secret. That's what grownups do.

"Can we…?" he wonders. "I'd like to." He stops. "I need to," he kisses her again. "Tell me how." He continues kissing her, passionately and lovingly. They're urgent, and their bodies move together in harmony.  
"Here," she says, "I'll show you, but you have to promise me that you'll understand how special this is," she tells him, her voice husky and her eyes filled with desire and love. He nods.

"I know."

"I have never done this before, so it is the most special time of all, the first time," she whispers, letting her hand slide down to grasp his manhood. He gasps, burying his face in her neck. She rubs him softly, sure she know she's not professional, but she was still educated enough to know that she was pleasuring him.

His breathing hitches and he lets out a soft moan, but it sounds restrained, as if he wasn't sure if he should. She tightens her grip and he gasps, moaning again only with more velocity this time.

"I understand now," he says into her neck with a shaky voice. "I understand what you meant when you said it was the best pleasure ever."

"Are you ready to make love, Peter?" she whispers. He nods, and takes a deep breath.

"I'm nervous though."

"That's normal," Wendy whispers with a smile. "I'm nervous too."

*****Climax**

"Something's happening Wendy," Peter panics, his breathing frantic and his limbs turning to jelly. Every muscle in his body screams to keep moving, but he's so scared of what's coursing through him in this moment. He groans a low guttural sound and his nails dig into her hips as he pushes forward; making sweet love to the girl he's always wanted since the beginning of time.

"Let it happen," she whimpers, holding him as close as possible, calling out his name between breaths. It spurs him on.

"Are you sure?" his breathing escalates to a rapid point, his body is climbing so high it seems nearly irreversible now. There's warmth everywhere, and he can't stop.

"Yes! Peter, yes!" She cries in pleasure and in love. "Harder," she adds in a softer, desperate moan. So soft he only heard it because her lips were right next to his ear.

"Wendy!" he releases a mangled cry, his body reaching the tipping point and every nerve ending comes to full attention. It feels as if he's being electrocuted with pleasure and warmth, wild contractions and spasms of ecstasy coursing through his being like he's never felt before. It was something he was barely able to comprehend, so all he could do was writhe in her arms and moan her name in the euphoria.


	5. Ignorance

Peter has a hard time understanding what it was that just came over him. He lies there in his Wendy's arms, panting vigorously, his body jellied. He's unable to move and he stays wrapped up in her in shock. He feels as though his entire existence has shattered into a million pieces, and then put itself back into a clearer, more redefined puzzle. He's damp with sweat, and both of their bodies are warm, moistness dripping onto the sheets.

"Oh Peter," Wendy murmurs warmly in his ear. He takes a deep breath as he finally realizes he's back in the real world. At least, one of the worlds he knew. He pulls his face out of her neck and looks at her, wide eyed.

"I can't begin to fathom that this is what I've been missing," he says quietly, sighing heavily and pressing his lips to hers passionately. He moans contently into her.

"That was incredible," she whispers when they pull away, gasping for air.

"Did you feel what I felt?" he questions, stroking her hair lovingly. "Did it feel like the entire world was exploding into white hot pleasure?" He hopes so dearly he could have the same effect on her that she has on him.

"I never reached my climax…" she stutters, "But I have felt that before, and it is very amazing. I told you it would be," she smiles softly stroking his face. But Peter disregards the second part of her answer.

"Why couldn't I make you…climax?" he questions, upset that she didn't get everything he did. He wanted her to be as happy as he was.

"It was my first time Peter…my body was adjusting to the pain, the pleasure was only second in command," she shrugs. "But I loved every minute of it! You did everything right, I promise," she kisses his heated cheeks. "Your face is red… Are you tired?" she asks. He thinks for a moment, and then it hits him.

"Yes, I am," he admits, deciding to pull himself out of Wendy and become two separate people again. He whimpers, his member still sensitive with the aftermath of his supposed 'climax', as Wendy had called it. "It's so sensitive," he whispers, gripping himself and trying to ease some of the pleasure away. It felt _too _good.

She pushes his hands away from his manhood, "don't touch it. The feeling will go away."

"How do you know so much about this?" he questions, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close despite the wet sheets and their moist bodies.

"I'm educated. They teach us these things in school…all of the other stuff I know I learn from other people my age. They do things, and then they talk about it…it's common knowledge to know things." She shrugs; knowing deep down that Peter was never going to know what being social meant. He only knew some people, and he was ruler of those people. He was not used to being equal.

He says nothing. He just closes his eyes and she buries her face in his neck.

"Come away with me. I have given you everything I have; my hidden kiss, my heart, my soul, I've given you my body…and I'll give you my future as well. Please, don't ever leave my side Wendy. I cannot live, I cannot breathe, I cannot be happy ever again if you aren't forever mine." Peters plead rings in the air, creating a deadly silence and a sacrifice hanging on the end of Wendy's tongue, waiting to jump. She must choose between Peter and her life here, in the real world. She has given him up once, could she do it again now that Peter has offered to be everything he couldn't be before? Was she selfish to want to stay here with him?

She could not believe that this boy, the cocky, adventurous, smug, talented little boy that she met years ago was here now, making this plea. He was begging her. It was all up to her now. She could not be so selfish! She had taken everything from him; she'd taken his virginity for heaven's sake! Then again, he'd taken hers too. Difference is she understood the importance of it, whilst Peter remained in the dark about everything grown up. To him it was just doing something that felt incredibly good with the girl he loved.  
Maybe she was underestimating his understanding…maybe he really did understand the significance of what they'd done.

"Peter I-," Wendy starts.

"Shhh, you don't have to give me an answer now. I'll stay here as long as it takes for you to say yes," he says, kissing her forehead and holding her tighter. She groans in frustration.

"You shouldn't want me so badly," she mutters. He pulls back to look at her, startled.

"Why? Am I strange?" he asks, terrified that he might have done something wrong.

"Of course you're strange! We all are, in a way. But what I cannot understand is why you would try so hard to get me to return to Neverland with you…I thought you only wanted to be a boy, to have fun and live a life of eternal youth."

"You don't understand Wendy," he mutters, rolling onto his back and crossing his hands on his chest, looking at the ceiling.

"Enlighten me."

He pauses, eyes darting around the ceiling, tracing patterns and scanning over possible responses in his head.

"It's as if all the color drained out of my life, I was seeing in black and white every day. There was no happiness anymore. I felt more alone than I knew possible." He looks down at her, sad eyes recalling the feelings of the past few years. "I've never known the meaning of true pain until you were gone. It's an agony I wouldn't wish upon anyone." He looks back up at the ceiling. "Except Hook," he adds menacingly but strikingly calm.

His words hit Wendy hard. Peter was never going to let go of her.

*****Several weeks later**

"Rise and shine!" Tootles burst through the door and ripped the sheets off of Peter. The startled boy fell out of the bed with a yelp and drew his knife out of the sheath, groggily prepared to fight to the death. "Put that thing away you look like a loon," Tootles scolded, beginning to make Peters bed.

"Well when you give me a heart attack it's a little hard not to overreact. What time is it anyway?" Peter mutters, wiping his eyes and putting his knife away. He scratches his chest and glances at himself in the mirror. Ever since he's been in this world with all of the reflective surfaces he was reminded everyday how different he looks. He notices hair on his face that wasn't there before. There's hair everywhere…

Tootles notices Peters silence and decides to speak up.

"How are ya' mate?" he folds the blankets calmly and routinely as usual, trying to hide his curiosity. Peter always has something to say.

"Tired. Why you gotta wake me up like this every morning?" he grumbles, grabbing his discarded shirt off the floor. Peter hated clothing, and the longer he stayed in this world the more he wished he could just wear his vines for the rest of eternity. Every night he would go to sleep in this guest room with the resolve of wearing the pajamas all night, but he never accomplishes it.

"Darlings' orders," Tootles shrugs, putting extra blankets in the bin and turning towards the window, following Peters disconnected gaze. "I haven't seen you fly in days Peter," he remembers.

"I'm not sure if I know how to anymore," Peter admits sadly, never breaking his gaze.

Tootles gasps in awe, "you're _Peter Pan _for heaven's sake! You _must _fly!" He cannot believe that this cocky, adventurous, youthful boy had already forgotten how to soar. It's a travesty of Peter's life, and it must be set back into place.

"How can I Tootles?" Peter looks at him, giving nothing but a mere shrug. "Wendy won't come to Neverland with me, and without her I cannot be happy." He sighs, looking down. Tootles notices a slight English accent already starting to thread its way onto Peters tongue, he was changing.

"Miss Wendy would never marry a traitor, and if you abandon your kingdom that's exactly what you'll be." Tootles storms out of the room angrily, leaving a disgruntled and groggy Peter speechless.

After a few minutes Peter collects himself, dressing to the best of his ability. What Tootles had said rang in his mind like grenades, exploding off the walls in a never-ending war. His choice was not as simple as he'd thought; Wendy or Neverland. He'd chosen Wendy and decided to stay in England, but what he didn't consider was how Wendy would feel if Neverland lost its leader. How could Neverland feel…?

Familiar jingling starting buzzing in his ear, and for a moment he flicked the noise away, afraid there was a bug trying to eat his ear off. Then he realized he recognized the tone.

"Tink?" he blurted, remembering the name from somewhere deep in the depths of his mind. Tink floated in front of him steadily, and he saw very clearly the look of betrayal and hurt on her face. He'd forgotten about her.

He sighed heavily and sat down on the bed, head buried in his hands. What was he becoming? How could he be forced to make such tough decisions? This is why he didn't want to stay in this world in the first place. If he had never met Wendy he would still be a happy child! He would have never forgotten Tinkerbell.

"What's happening to me Tink…" Peter's tears dampen the young fairies hair as she hugs his cheek, stroking his nose. Tink tries to speak, but Peter has begun ranting. "I can't do this! I don't know how girls think, I thought it would be simple, just come to England and get her but _no, _she has to act all weird…"

_How so, Peter?_

"She treats me differently, she doesn't play anymore. She knows more things," he trails off, trying to pinpoint exactly where the problem lies. He wipes some of this tears away and sniffles, glancing at Tink who was sitting on his knee.

_You've both grown; there will be changes you have to accept. _

Peter shrugs and rubs his eyes. "I just don't get it…we've done something Tink, something big, and now she won't talk about it," he mutters, trying to put together why Wendy has gotten so tense about the subject, the subject of making love.

_What have you done…? _Tinkerbell sounds nervous.

"Well…a while ago…we were kissing, and we took our clothes off…and we did what grownups do; only I still felt old enough to do it because I really wanted to… Do you know what I mean?" Peter tries to explain but Tinkerbell remains silent, expression frozen and undeterminable. Peter decides to try to further explain. "I put myself inside of her, and we made love, that's what she called it, and it was the most…the best…I can't describe it. But I loved it, and she won't do it again or talk about it," he breathes heavily, rubbing his face and running his hands through his hair. Tinkerbell is silent for a moment.

_You had intercourse Peter. _Tinks tone is hushed, shocked even.

"What? No, it's making love," Peter corrects.

_There are many different things to call it, but sexual intercourse is the actual term. _Still, Tinkerbell's voice is guarded, contemplative. She sounds disappointed in him, and truth be told Peter was disappointed in himself. He'd let himself grow up, and that was too much for his heart to handle.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do Tink, I need her but I need my home as well."

_Peter, did Wendy ever mention wanting to be a mother?_

He thinks. "I think she might have, I know we played mother and father back in Neverland." He ponders the question further before moving on. "Why?"

_Has she ever told you that she wanted to have your children? _Tinkerbell's tone is suddenly rushed, and Peter feels his heart beat faster, his breath quickening. He's becoming frightened.

"What do you mean _my _children? I thought only women could produce children," he looks at her, confused and anxious, wondering exactly where this was going.

_Answer my question! _Peter jumps at her fierceness.

"No! She's never said anything like that," Peter whimpers.

_To make a child is not only a woman's job, but a man's too. It's done by doing exactly what you did. _

"Making love…is how you make children?" Peter stutters, finding it hard to breathe.

_Yes. People do it for the same reasons you did, but sometimes, if they aren't careful…they could get pregnant. You could be a father. A real one. _

After hearing this, Peter collapses in a wispy faint on the floor.


	6. Awake

Peter sleeps for two days and one night, and on the second night, he awakens. He has no dreams, it's as if he blinked once and all that time had passed. He's surprised to find himself in Wendy's bed; he recognizes her lavender scent clinging to the blankets wrapped around him. He rolls over onto his stomach and buries his face it the pale clouds, marveling in her aroma and his heart swells with warmth. He could lie here forever wrapped up in this welcoming and familiar bubble. The only thing stopping him was the reminder that it could only get better, if only he had his Wendy right here right now.

He sits up hurriedly, flinching as if he were expecting to smack his head against a branch hanging above his bed as he's done so many times before. But this wasn't his bed, and there were no branches. Nothing but open air and a subconscious memory telling him to stop jerking awake so often. He sighs to himself and rubs his face, his eyes, and runs his fingers through his hair. He is drowsy and groggy, but quick to force himself to stand.

As his feet touch the floor and eminent consciousness takes over him, reality starts to set in. Memories come flooding back to him and the warmth slowly fades away. Tinkerbell, England, love making, babies… He could be a father.

No wonder he had been out so long. He must have hit his head.

Nobody was nearby, since they couldn't be every hour of the day. He has no idea how long he's been out, but one thing remains clear; he must speak to Wendy. How could she have lied to him in such a way? Well, she hasn't exactly lied, she just didn't tell him… And who was she to be obligated to anyway? He should have known this! But how could he?

He buries his face in his hands and groans, head pains starting to creep up his brain through his temples. Maybe he's just overreacting; Tinkerbell only made it clear that it was a possibility. There was no for sure way of knowing that they had made a baby. How does that even work anyway…what about doing something like that could result in a baby?

"I need to go home," he whispers more to the open air than to himself. He's known this for days now, but he was sure that he couldn't stay away from Neverland much longer. His home was going to slip into a wintery ice land without him. He rises off the bed but decides it would be safer instead not to use his feet, but to fly.

When he lifts off the ground he feels euphoria come over him that he hasn't experienced in too long. He can still fly, he hasn't forgotten. He laughs with glee and rises up further towards the ceiling and flips in elated circles, before crumbling back down onto the bed because his ribs had started to cramp up from all the laughter. He rolls over slightly and reaches under the bed to snatch up his vines where he knew Wendy had hidden them.

He missed them. Pressing them to his nose he inhales what he remembers to be Neverland, and whispers, "I'll be home soon."

He dresses himself much quicker than with the clothes that regular people wear. He knows his vines; they're much easier for him to assemble than some useless, colorless rags that overheat you.

Once dressed, he's faced with the next objective; convince Wendy to come away with him.

He doesn't know why, but Peter didn't expect the hallways to be so empty. There was no sound. Usually the hustle and bustle of the boys' daily activity can be heard throughout the entire house. He wanders around, leaves and all, eventually heading towards the stairs before checking the spare room and the nursery. Nobody.

"Wendy?" he calls, voice echoing.

"Oh Peter," Mrs. Darling murmurs from the bottom of the stairs. "Goodness you're awake! Come, quickly, Wendy has been asking," she says to him as Peter reaches the bottom. She pauses for a moment and takes in his appearance. "You're…um…"

"The clothes I came in," is all he says in response. "My leaves. I feel better in them." She nods in understanding, a look of sadness coming across her eyes. She knows Peter was to leave soon.

"Wendy has been ill," Mrs. Darling explains softly. "The boys are with their aunt, they're far too rambunctious to be in the house while she's in this condition."

"Ill how?" Peter worries, dread starting to take over him. He knew that they could get diseases from what they had done. Had he done this to her?

"She has been in the washroom for a couple hours every day lately," she sighs, "vomiting profusely. It's as if it hits her like a ton of bricks, then stops." Peter looks down, thinking about this. His doubts about her state are still there, though he thinks maybe this wasn't his fault.

"Has she eaten something bad?" Peter wonders as they stop outside the washroom, passing Mr. Darling asleep in the chair by the window in the family room. John is on the floor, nose buried in a book. He doesn't notice Peter, much to Peter's relief.

"We're not sure," her mother rubs her face frustratingly. She looks cautiously over to Mr. Darling, to make sure he really was asleep. Then she leans in closer to Peter, her lips by his ear. He stiffens. "I fear she may be with child," she whispers.

Peter blinks, trying to process what she had just said.

"I…I didn't…I can't imagine how…she never told me…" he stops. He wasn't going to be able to explain it properly.

"Peter I know. I know my daughter. I'm not upset with you…" Peter exhales in relief, though the heavy weight of the thought of a child still lingers over him.

"I need to speak to her," he says. He meant for his voice to come out strongly, but instead he just whispers the words, eyes dropping to the floor. Mrs. Darling nods and gestures for him to go in.

Wendy is lying on the floor, her head near the toilet on a big pillow. There are towels laid out on the floor and a cup of water sitting on the floor next to her. She looks worn out and exhausted, her hair is unkempt and it looks as if she has been lying on this floor for hours. He kneels down next to her and strokes her shoulder. She's so soft, just as he remembers she was the last time he held her in his arms.

"Peter?" she whispers, opening her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes. Peter grins widely, for a moment forgetting everything and pulling her into his arms in a tight bear hug. She pulls back to look at him for a moment. "I'm so glad you're awake!"

"How long have I been asleep?" Peter admittedly confesses to actually having slept, which is not something he usually does.

"Two days, I found you on the floor, you'd hit your head," she murmurs. He scoffs nonchalantly.

"I've hit my head hundreds of times, I'm fine." He stands and places his hand on his hip, offering his other to Wendy, who takes it timidly. She sways a bit as she stands, but other than that she seems perfectly normal to him.

"They're making a big deal out of you being a little sick, had me worried for a moment," Peter shrugs.

"You? Worried?" she chuckles. "I would've thought that such a feeling was unknown to the great Peter Pan."

"Yeah well," he pauses, taking a deep breath, "things change." He suddenly remembers what Wendy's mother had told him, and he cringes at the thought.

"What is it?" she places her hand on his cheek, urging him to look her in the eyes though she's significantly shorter than he.

"Your mother thinks you might be with child," Peter mutters, refusing to look at her. Wendy looks down, not saying anything. She lets her hand fall and turns away from him. His heart sinks. "So it's true! You knew we could make a child and yet…we…" he stops. He can't come up with the right words. He did this too, it wasn't completely her fault. He should have questioned her more.

"I'm sorry," she chokes, and Peter realizes she's crying. He melts instantly and pulls her tightly into his arms, unable to hide the affection he has for her. He loves her too much to stay angry.

"Why didn't you tell me that's what would happen?" he whispers into her hair, fighting back his own tears. He hated to see her in pain.

"I didn't think about it… I didn't' think it would happen! It's not always guaranteed you'll have a child, I thought we would be lucky enough to dodge it, just this once…" she weeps softly, shoulders trembling and tears dripping down Peter's bare collarbone. She strokes his leaves, finally starting to notice his attire. "You're leaving…" she says, voice cracking and she starts sobbing frantically. "Please don't leave me," she begs, hardly able to get her words out before hiccupping again, a lump in her throat. She feels as though her world is falling apart.

"I could never leave you, my Wendy," he whispers warmly into her ear as he rubs her back. "But I can't abandon my home. I have to go back. I'm begging you to come with me, and if you can't…I'll come back every day and see you." He looks behind him towards the door, which was opening slightly.

"Wendy," her mother murmurs softly. "We need to go now."

"Where?" Peter snaps, terrified at the thought of her leaving his arms.

"To hospital, I need to know if I am really with child. Please, don't mention this to my father," she sniffles, sobbing once again. Peter nods.

"I'll come too."

He leads her out to the carriage waiting, and nobody says a word about the fact that he's dressed in leaves and vines.


End file.
